


Within an Instant

by Cesarinna



Series: Unbound, Unbridled, Undefeated [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Domme, F/M, Family Dynamics, Femdom, Gentle femdom, Love at First Sight, Marriage, Married Couple, Married Life, Men Crying, Pillow Talk, Politics, Power Dynamics, Power Imbalance, War, Why Did I Write This?, Woman on Top, Women In Power, i guess, reluctance, why is gentle femdom not a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:14:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23925223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cesarinna/pseuds/Cesarinna
Summary: She knew she wanted him within an instant. He took longer to realize the same.Brief looks into the lives of an empress and her husband. No plot, no smut (yet?), all femdom dynamic.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Series: Unbound, Unbridled, Undefeated [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1680979
Comments: 6
Kudos: 49





	Within an Instant

**Author's Note:**

> God I wrote this all at like 4 am and slapped it here. 
> 
> I get pronouns mixed up because after a while of writing he and she look the same. 
> 
> These two are the parents of the main character in my main work, Solace and Anguish. You don’t need to read that to understand this but if you like this world or if you want femdom with plot, that one is a good fit for you.

He hated arguments with her.

Not because he always lost, he was used to that. Because he would spend his nights alone until she decided she had forgiven him. Sometimes, she punished him immediately instead of ignoring him for a week. He preferred a spanking over waking up in a guest bed, but lately she was too busy to do anything other than send him away. 

He shifted in the bed, unable to sleep. It wasn’t an uncomfortable bed by any means, but it wasn’t _their_ bed. This was the place where he sent his nights when he made her angry. He stared at the paintings on the wall, all faces he didn’t recognize. Her ancestors, most likely. Their portraits were everywhere in the castle. If they didn’t cost thousands of Keervanian crowns, he would have ripped them off the wall and thrown them into the sea years ago. 

He sighed. How did he let this happen? He didn’t mean to snap at her, he really didn’t. He had spent all day with their baby daughter, and she was a whirlpool that time and energy disappeared into, as much as he loved her. When his wife finally returned to their private wing of the castle after a day of meetings and hearings, he had been too exhausted and too irritable to greet her properly. She had pressed him on his manners, and he snapped. 

She had only given him a disappointed look before shutting him out of their room. This wasn’t the woman who won blood-bath wars with a triumphant grin. This was the woman exhausted of being an empress and a wife and a mother. 

She had been so overjoyed when their daughter was born after so many miscarriages. At the time, he had assumed it was the glee of being a parent, but he was starting to wonder if it was only the relief of securing her family legacy for another generation. 

No, he wasn’t being fair to her. As much as she seemed unprepared and daunted by motherhood, he knew the empress loved her daughter, just as he knew she loved him. 

He slid off his bed, pulling a blanket over his shoulders, and tiptoed to her room. She would likely skin him for interrupting the horrifyingly little amount of sleep she got, but he missed her. He could stand to lose his hide. 

He crept through a hidden passage between their bedrooms and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. Moonlight filtered in through the stunningly massive stained windows, casting shadows on her face that were both vivid and subdued in the moonlight. He watched the rise and fall of her chest, feeling his heart slow just by touching her. 

She very rarely looked this unburdened during waking hours, always at odds with the universe itself in one way or another. He traced each detail of her face, connecting the freckles on her cheeks with his finger. They were so pale that only he knew they were there, she didn’t allow anyone else this close. 

For a moment, he considered not waking her. What if he quietly crawled next to her and fell asleep? She wouldn’t exactly be pleased. What if he woke her and she was angrier than before? 

He gently shook her, and her eyes opened. Those glorious green eyes, framed by black eyebrows and high cheekbones. He would never tire of seeing her face. 

“Evzen,” she murmured. “You aren’t supposed to be here.” 

“I know, I know. But I can’t… I can’t sleep,” he confessed. “Please, can I stay with you? Just for the night. I know you’re angry, but _please_ , Verity?” 

She sighed after a moment of thought and shifted aside on the mattress, lifting up her covers for him to slip under. He laid by her side, immediately welcomed by her warmth and her smell, Jaarvan perfume and linen. But it wasn’t enough, he wanted her touch. He rolled over and pressed against her. Finally, she put her arms around him. 

“I’m sorry for misbehaving earlier,” he mumbled into her chest. 

“I know,” she said. 

He went limp as her hands tangled in his hair and massaged his scalp. When he was forced to marry the Empress of Keervan because she claimed to have known she was her perfect match at first sight, he had been expecting a loveless marriage. After all, she was the woman who slaughtered anyone who betrayed her and rampaged upon their lands. She was also a Buliere, and that was a pedigree that included many, many connotations. 

He had come to learn she was so much more than a war-mongering empress. Verity Buliere had the depth of three people combined, and she was his. He hadn’t believed in the gods until he realized he was in love, because how else would she have chosen him if not for the involvement of the gods? 

“I was… I was tired, and I missed you,” he explained. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to excuse myself. I just… need you, and you’re so rarely here.” 

“I have an empire to rule,” she muttered. “There is only so much I can do at once.” 

“And it isn’t fair of me to divert your attention to me when the empire deserves it more than I do, I know, but I’m irritable when you’re not around.” He nuzzled into her neck and swallowed, almost choking on his own tongue. “You’re angry with me, but I just need you here.” 

She sighed. “I would have glued you to my side like before, but Solace needs your supervision.” 

Evzen stiffened. “Don’t bring her up like that.” 

“She is my daughter.” An edge of anger rose in her voice. “She is my _blood_.” 

“You don’t treat her like your daughter,” he returned. “You avoid her like you’re afraid of her.”

She pushed him back and turned to the other side, facing away from him. “It’s not as simple as that.” 

“Then what’s the matter? What’s wrong? You’ve been different ever since she was born.” He spoke to her back, wishing she would let him see her face. “I don’t understand. You’ve been unstable lately, and—I don’t know. You’ve changed.” 

“I’m tired,” she admitted. “Just tired.” 

He sat up. “That isn’t all, you can’t lie to me. Please, just tell me why you’ve changed.” 

“I haven’t changed,” she whispered. “You’re imagining things.” 

“But I’m not, am I? I spoke to Temien yesterday. He told me that women from your family sometimes suffer a long period of sadness after their children are born. Is that what’s happening?” he urged. “Please, I don’t know what to do anymore.” 

He placed his hand on her side, feeling her stiffen when he mentioned her family’s history. So it was true, then. She couldn’t hide everything from him, as much as she wanted to. 

“Temien Witbrok is a senile old man,” Verity grumbled, moving out of his reach. 

“He is your family historian, and he is far from senile. So he was right, that’s why you’re so… exhausted lately.” The frustration of being shut away from her true thoughts started showing in his voice. After five years of marriage, he should be used to this, but he didn’t think he could ever truly accept being kept out of her head. “I can’t help you if you keep denying it. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” 

“I am not _ashamed_ ,” she hissed. “You’ve pressed this issue enough. I will talk about this tonight.” 

He let a moment of silence pass between the two of them. “Please, Verity, won’t you turn around? I want to see your face.” 

She did nothing for a moment, and he felt a sting of rejection. Even the littlest ‘no’ from her he took to heart. Then, she sighed and did as he asked. Her hair fell into her eyes, inky black strands as fine as silk, thread that coiled around his fingers as he brushed it away from her face, hair so dark he wondered how it didn’t stain everything it touched. Their daughter had her hair, but his eyes. That was among his greatest prides, to have given her his family’s vivid hazel. 

“Will you promise to tell me sooner or later?” he murmured. 

She closed her fingers around his golden collar. “Only if you take this off. It can’t be comfortable to wear it at all times. Even I take my crown off when I turn in.” 

“You stop being the empress when you sleep,” he pointed out. “I don’t stop being your consort, that’s why I don’t take it off.” 

She rolled her eyes and reached back, unclasping the emerald-studded collar and setting it aside. “I don’t stop being the empress when I sleep, foolish thing. I stop wearing an accessory. Don’t put so much weight on the crown and collar of Keervan. They’re only symbols.” 

“I never thought you would tell me not to put weight on appearances,” he hummed. 

“Well, don’t put so much weight on appearances when no one else is watching,” she amended. 

“No one is watching now,” Evzen said. “If you’re worried that someone will judge you, only I am listening.” 

“Not tonight.”

Another long bout of silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. He didn’t think he _could_ be uncomfortable with her. 

He brought his fingers to her face again, brushing his nails against her skin as lightly as he could. She stared back, accommodating his craving for touch despite being the most physically closed-off person he knew. They were opposites in almost every way, constantly making compromises. He was a naturally giving person, and she was slowly becoming one. It wouldn’t be long before she lowered her guard and let him support her for a change. He only needed to be patient. 

He hoped their daughter wouldn’t be as stubborn as her mother, as wonderfully charming as that would be. 

The bags under his wife’s eyes were deepening. Five years into a peaceful reign, and she was exhausted. Peace was more difficult than war for a woman who’s instincts always pointed to violence like a compass pointed north. 

They were regularly separated during the four years of war preceding her ascension to the throne, because she wanted to keep him safe. He had found that ridiculous before he warmed up to her. He had enlisted voluntarily to prove himself, and the princess had picked him out from a line of soldiers during an inspection and had him brought to the palace for safekeeping, as if he was some sort of prized whore to this stranger of a woman instead of a soldier. 

She made a point to visit him in the palace whenever she could, but he regularly found himself being brought to her instead. He saw all of the empire on those long and comically guarded journeys. He saw the land burn where she had touched it and flourish where she had not. It should have been easy to hate her, but he couldn’t bring himself to. 

She was manic during the war, always alert, rarely eating and sleeping rarer still. She had always had an obsession in those days; crushing the rebellion and avenging her family. Now, she seemed empty and tired, with no hatred and grief to guide her. Sometimes, she even looked small, dwarfed by her towering palace and crushing responsibilities. She was the second-born child, never meant to rule. He wondered if she even realized that she would take the throne after she eradicated the other families clawing at it after the death of her family, if she understood that she would be the one to fill that power vacuum. 

He wished she would just realize that she didn’t _need_ hatred and grief to keep moving. It had been five years. The empire flourished in her hands, all of her diplomatic interests had been realized, and most importantly, she had the heir she so desperately wanted. She had a family. 

“You’re so spent, my love.” He brushed his thumb over her cheekbone, tracing the dark half-circles under her eyes. “Maybe you ought to take a break, let someone else manage your duties for a few weeks.” 

She smiled, as if that was some sort of tone-deaf joke to her. “Who?”

“Your sister?” he suggested. “She’s sixteen now. When you were sixteen, you were fighting a war. If she is even half as robust as you are, a month or so on the throne will be nothing to her. You need to rest.” 

“Absolutely not. She’s too young, even for someone of our bloodline. Winning a war is easier than keeping the peace,” she whispered. “I cannot force her through that. She wants nothing of the throne.” 

“What about—”

“I sincerely hope you aren’t suggesting my niece,” she cut in. “She has become a tyrant at age eleven. It’s frightening, even for my blood.” 

He huffed. “No! Of course I wasn’t, I know better than that, my love. I was going to propose one of your advisors.”

She shook her head. “Only those of Buliere blood are suited for the throne. As exhausted as I am, I can’t turn my empire over to someone the law forbids.” 

“I’m sure the law allows for some flexibility,” he reasoned. “Please, Verity.”

She shifted to be near him, and for a moment, he expected her to strike him across the face. Instead, she smoothed her palms against his skin and kissed him. He leaned into her touch, wishing he could melt into her, melt his ideas into her mind and break the rigid walls within and surrounding her. 

“I appreciate your suggestions, Evzen, but I am the empress and I will stay the empress until the day I die. I don’t need time away from the throne to rest.” She kissed the tip of his nose and pressed their foreheads together. “I rest each night, which is why I need you to be quiet now, my darling.” 

Oh, he realized what she was doing now. Damnit, this woman. He couldn’t help but grin hopelessly at her. “Yes, my love. I… assume I’m forgiven?” 

“I didn’t send you away to punish you. I sent you away because I was too tired for the conversations you keep insisting on having.” She gave him a smile, the real, crooked smile she always tried to hide. “But it seems you can’t stay away, and I can’t make you.” 

“I can never stay away,” he agreed. 

**Author's Note:**

> Probably the worst piece of writing I’ve ever put on the internet


End file.
